


Quiet as the Devil's Kiss

by problematiquefave



Series: Wolfstar-A-Week (2017) [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, First War with Voldemort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematiquefave/pseuds/problematiquefave
Summary: It was the end of a decade; they were high and in love -- what else was there to do?





	Quiet as the Devil's Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> So my original intention for this week was to write a medieval fantasy!AU. Unfortunately, by Thursday, I realized that just wouldn’t be possible. Instead, I decided to write some porn.
> 
> Then I remembered I haven’t written an explicit sex scene in actual years. Too late now, I guess.

Another decade is quickly coming to a close; 1979 marks the end of a decade rife with dissent and anarchy, and that’s just talking about the muggle world. For wizards, it marks a decade of civil war and fear, with 1980 promising nothing better.

But this… _This_ is not that story.

This is the admittedly raunchy story of two young men, both in love and high on powdered mandrake leaves, who’d like to say ‘fuck the war’ for once.

So… _fuck the war_.

*

“Moony. _Moony_. Moooooony.”

“Padfoot.”

A grin spreads across Sirius’ face, wide and full of teeth; his silver-grey eyes glimmer with the mirth that bubbles from his lips in a too-loud laugh. One of the merchants managing a nearby stall shoots them a glare but Remus hardly notices it as Sirius laces their fingers together and drags him towards a booth on the opposite side of the alley.

Despite the gloomy weather – the overcast skies threatening rain, the nip in the air – there’s plenty of people out and about on this late October day, Remus and Sirius among the throngs. Sirius is grinning and laughing, his attention catching on anything, _everything_ shiny – either he’s part-niffler or he’s high and Remus knows it’s the latter because he’s the one who procured the powdered mandrake and smoked it with him in their tatty flat.

Sirius’ attention is currently caught on what Remus thinks is some sort of crystal ball made out of a mirror-like material. What purpose that would serve, Remus wouldn’t know – he picked Ancient Runes over Divination and he’s also not listening to the merchant trying to rope Sirius into a sale. His eyes scan the street instead. He’s not sure if he’s look for friends, enemies, or a ware worth being interested in; he’s certainly not looking at what’s before him. When Sirius tugs at his sleeve, however, he turns his attention back to his dark-haired lover and gives him a small smile.

“Did you see something?”

“Nah,” Remus responds, shrugging. “Just not interested in those sorts of balls.”

Sirius laughs – again, it’s much too loud – and turns back to the sales-witch. Remus notes the confused look on her face. “No interest in Divination, this one,” he says to the woman, gripping Remus’ arm tightly. “Doesn’t understand the art in the slightest and, well, can’t argue when he’s in charge of the coin. Such a downer.”

That’s not a lie, necessarily, since Remus _is_ in charge of the coins when they’re high and wondering around Diagon Alley like this, and he truly has no interest in divination but Remus takes offense anyways. He’s _not_ a downer. Sirius must notice the frown on his face, based on what he says next.

“Did you want the thing? I think it was just some silly muggle novelty.”

Remus shakes his head. “No,” he replies, “but you didn’t need to make me out as some sort of draconian bore.”

“ _Draconian?_ Did I hallucinate you smoking the mandrake or what?”

“Sirius.”

Sirius sighs, lips pursing into a pout. A beautifully attractive pout, if you asked Remus, that you could write a thousand words about (though Remus would much prefer to paint it).

“I didn’t mean to offend you, love,” he says, and places a peck on Remus’ cheek. Remus tilts his head away and Sirius sighs but, at their sides, their hands are clasped together. Remus’ aversion to public displays isn’t brought up as the next shiny thing catches Sirius’ attention. Remus’ focus remains fixed though.

He’s not a bore. Maybe he doesn’t like to flaunt their relationship, maybe he’s not interested in divination, maybe he’s the most responsible of this lot, but he’s not a _bore_. He was as much a Marauder – a prankster and mischief-maker – as the rest of them. He still is. Just last week he swapped Dumbledore’s lemon-drops for something that made his skin turn green; the tea the old man washed it down with made his hair turn pink. That was all on Remus – Remus, who was definitely not a downer nor a bore.

Sirius is oohing and awing beside him about some item Remus can’t even begin to describe; rather than try to decipher the thing that has feathers and metal rods and a tiny broomstick, Remus looks around, trying to find something that’ll make it clear that he’s not a bore.

Unfortunately, there’s not much.

There’s actually a lot of things, most of it worthless junk that Remus wouldn’t even touch if he was sober, but none of it belongs to him, and he’s not going to cause trouble for merchants just trying to make a living. He knows that plight all too well. But what can he do? He’s searched the entire street when he sees one of the merchants place a towering stack of boxes at the entrance of an alley. A small mirror ball falls from one of the boxes and rolls into the street.

 _Oh_.

The ball itself isn’t interesting – like he said, there are other balls that he likes.

“You done?”

Sirius glances up from the thing-that-can’t-be-described, silver-grey eyes meeting his. “Did you see something?”

Remus shrugs. “Just bored.”

Sirius lips curl with another grin. “Am I not entertaining enough for you?” he teases.

“You’re not paying attention to me, are you?”

Sirius laughs. He turns back to the merchant and bids him goodbye. They start walking again, hand-in-hand, not stopping for any of the many shiny knick-knacks they pass. They’re about to pass the alley when Remus tugs at their clasped hands, nodding towards the shadowed area. Sirius raises an eyebrow at him but follows. Remus leads him around the tower of boxes and, then, pushes him into the wall.

Sirius makes a small ‘mmph!’ sound as his back hits the walls, his lips parting to speak. Remus swallows the words in a bruising kiss, his hands pressing into the bricks behind them, boxing Sirius in. Sirius offers no protest, kissing back, more greedy than any of the merchants mere feet away. The boxes and shadows of the alley offer a thin veil of privacy – if anyone on the street craned their head the right way, they’d see Remus and Sirius trapped in a passionate kiss.

They’d also see all the scandalous things that happen next.

“I was starting to think that mandrake hadn’t worked on you,” Sirius breathed, half-laughing as they pulled away for air.

“It doesn’t give me the compulsive need to touch everything that sparkles, if that’s what you mean,” Remus responds, his voice low, barely more than a whisper.

Sirius hums a split second before Remus leans in for another kiss. Remus lips are hard and greedy against Sirius’, demanding more. Sirius is all too happy to oblige. Remus’ body against his is warm and his kiss is like fire as it trails down his chin and along the columns of his throat.

The powdered mandrake instills a headiness in the two of them, one that seeps into their bones. Remus can swear he tastes it as he licks a stripe up Sirius’ neck but that might also be because Remus finds his lover so intoxicating.

But this… Kissing and necking in an alleyway? This wasn’t even half of what Remus had been planning.

With reluctance, Remus pulls away from Sirius’ neck. He presses a final kiss to the other’s lips, hot as fire but surprisingly chaste, before he drops to his knees. He hears Sirius’ breath catch in his throat, followed by the clink of his belt buckle as Remus undoes it. The werewolf fumbles with a zipper but, a moment later, he’s inching down the pants and pulling Sirius’ cock free.

Sirius is already half-hard but that’s obviously not good enough. Remus leans in, inhaling Sirius’ musky scent, and licks from head to base – the taste is salty but Remus doesn’t mind it in the slightest.

“Good God…” Sirius murmurs.

“Can’t help you now,” Remus replies, looking up through his lashes. Sirius’ cheeks are red – whether from the cold or the debauched acts in process, one can’t say. “But you should be quiet—” there’s a wicked grin on Remus’ lips, that spreads from ear to ear “—or else someone out there might here you.”

Sirius groans, lifting a hand to his lips and biting his knuckles. He nods – the only permission that Remus needs.

He goes for it.

One of Remus’ hands wraps around the base of Sirius’ cock, the other pushing into his hip. His tongue traces the veins, sweeping over the grooves. He can hear a muffled groan from above and feels a spark of pride – it goes straight to his cock, straining at the seam of his trousers.

“Remus, you bastard…”

He pulls away to look up again, that wicked grin on his lips once more. “Need something?”

“Air is a bit cold, y’know – doesn’t feel too good.”

Remus hums but he’s got the message. Sirius’ cock is erect now, practically begging for Remus’ lips. Never one to disappoint, the werewolf leans in, licking at the slit before wrapping his lips around the head. The hand at the base of the cock moving up and down as Remus takes more, tauntingly slow. Sirius’ nails dig into the wall.

Remus swallows him half way before pulling back. His lips leave the cock with a wet smack, pulling a whine from Sirius’ throat.

“Not a bore now, am I?”

“Now you’re a fucking cocktease,” he growls. The quietness of his voice takes some of the edge off the words but Remus understands the frustration.

Frankly, he’d much rather be a bore than a cocktease.

The slowness is forgotten as Remus’ attention returns to the cock. He swallows him down half-way in one go, then slowly inches him forward. Every inch not covered by his lips is covered by his hand. He hums around the cock, his tongue moving and sliding against the length inside his mouth. He’s got three quarters of it when he pulls back. It’s not to taunt this time – he’s on it again as quick as he wasn’t, his head now bobbing up and down.

Sirius moans from around the knuckles in his mouth; the hand that was against the wall finds its way into Remus’ tawny locks. He grips the hair as Remus’ head moves up and down, his eyes fluttering shut as a golden warmth pools in his stomach.

“Remus, fuck…” he hisses into his hand. A moment later, Sirius’ cock hits the back of Remus’ throat – Sirius groans.

Deepthroating Sirius is tricky; Remus’ gag reflex is finicky and he has to pause to keep it from kicking in. His forehead rests against Sirius’ abdomen but Sirius doesn’t even care about the lack of motion. The heat, the tongue… Gods. It only gets better when Remus does manage to start moving again, the bobbing returning with vigor.

The pleasure builds inside of Sirius, growing more and more intense. His grip on Remus’ hair tightens and his muscles tense; it takes every last shred of consciousness that Sirius can muster to keep himself from thrusting forward and choking Remus. Remus, with his face pressed into Sirius’ groin, is silently grateful. He shows that by pulling back and laving attention to the angry red tip, his tongue collecting the quickly-gathering precum at the tip. There’s a hint of bitterness to it but Remus laps at it like a starving man.

The image of Remus with his mouth red and tongue swirling around the head of his cock sends another bolt of pleasure through Sirius.

“Remus—God—fuck, I—”

Forming a coherent sentence is nigh impossible, especially when Remus lips are around his cock again and sliding down the shaft.

It’s when the hand that was pressed into his hip, however, moves down and gently squeezes his balls, that’s it over.

“I’m going to—”

And Remus _hums_.

The orgasm wracks Sirius body. Remus presses his forehead into the other’s abdomen again, working his throat to swallow the thick seed. When Sirius’ body starts to relax, Remus slowly pulls back, his tongue sliding along the underside of the cock to make sure he catches every last drop.

Remus wipes a hand over his lips before tucking Sirius back into his trousers and rebuckling his belt. There’s a pop in his knees as he gets to feet – cobblestone doesn’t make for a good surface to kneel on. The werewolf leers at Sirius as he sees the wrecked expression on his lover’s face and the way he uses the wall to keep himself standing. He leans in for a kiss that Sirius happily, if lazily, responds to. There’s a strong taste of salt and cum but Sirius doesn’t complain.

When Remus pulls back for air, Sirius leans in and rests his forehead on Remus’ shoulder. They stand like that for a moment, catching their breaths and coming down from the heady high of act. Sirius’ hand rests on Remus’ thigh and when he looks up into Remus’ eyes, there’s a silent question. Remus shakes his head.

“I think I’d much rather you take care of that home.”

It’s a promise. A very not-boring promising.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, a comment would be greatly appreciated. You can also find me on tumblr @ problematiquefics.


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